


An Angel, a Demon, and a Girl

by Deadlydollies13



Series: On the Eve of the Rest of Their Lives | An Ineffable Family Series [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Adoption, Angels and Demons, Architectural History, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale's Bookshop, College, College Student, Graduation, Historic Preservation, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Jealous Crowley, Jewish Good Omens (Good Omens), M/M, Oblivious, Post-Good Omens, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Torah (Tanakh), Unconventional Families, University, University College London, architecture, eventual adoption, stressed college student
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-16 09:12:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19315129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deadlydollies13/pseuds/Deadlydollies13
Summary: It had been a year after the almost-Armageddon. Well, it had actually been only nine months. Aziraphale and Crowley’s respective head offices left them alone for the most part, just as they had said they would after the whole Holy Water and Hellfire incident.They carried out their days rather normally. Crowley would go about causing some mayhem around Britain and Aziraphale would go about spreading peace and holiness and whatnot. They were best friends, after all. They enjoyed each other’s company, walked around the park on sunny afternoons and fed the ducks, and took turns taking the other out for meals.And just like the past six thousand years, neither had admitted their attraction to the other.Both had told themselves that they were content the way things were, just the two of them. No need to ruin a good thing, and with Heaven and Hell not really in the picture anymore, it was easy for the two to carry on with their lives.That is, until one day, when a college student named Eve enters their lives. As if they already didn't have an Adam to worry about.





	1. Eve and the Bookshop of Knowledge

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any characters or ideas from the Good Omens universe.
> 
> This work is part of a series, “On The Eve of the Rest of Their Lives.” You should read this part first before continuing on to “Home Is With You (Wherever That Is).” 
> 
> I’ve curated a [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/deadlydollies13/playlist/1a9sEE3QtcQcNj91wnvogp?si=Xqi5zu26S8mEJ3eXRxtxhg) that appropriately go with this series.

One day, nine months after the failed Apocalypse, a knock came at the bookshop door. 

Crowley and Aziraphale were situated in the back corner; Aziraphale at his desk and Crowley sprawled out on his sofa. 

At first, the knock was timid.  Aziraphale, not wanting to deal with customers just as he always did, ignored it and hoped that they would take a hint that the shop was closed.

But the pounding grew louder, more desperate. The angel sighed, excused himself, and went to the door.  On opening it, he was met with a short young woman who was shivering in the pouring rain. Her eyes behind her foggy, soaked glasses were desperate. “Oh dear.  Are you all right?”

Her voice was shaky and quiet, and Aziraphale had to strain to hear her over the downpour. “T - the University Library didn’t have the books I - I needed and they s - said that this place h - h - had them.” 

Aziraphale could see the backpack straps over her shoulders.  She was a student. An _unfortunate_ student who had gotten caught in the rain and would probably catch her death if Aziraphale left her exposed to the elements any longer. 

“Well, do come in.” _Damn this empathetic heart._ He smiled and stepped aside so that the girl could come in. Even her steps were shaky, as she was soaked to the bone. When she stepped inside the warm bookshop and Aziraphale closed the door, he saw her shoulders relax.  She let out a sigh of relief. He noticed a few things emanating from the girl, as angels could see auras just as witches could: along with the chill, she was shy and anxious.

“What were the books you needed, dear girl?” he asked. 

The girl fished a crumpled up index card with a list from her pocket, damp, but still legible.

Aziraphale bustled about the shop, gathering the books from her list.  He placed them on the table near the hearth.

“Thank you, I promise I won’t take long at all.” Her steps were careful, so as not to track water all over the place. What she didn’t notice was that with each step, she was drying off. By the time she reached the sofa, her clothes were practically dry, but her hair still damp.

When she went to clean the water droplets off of her glasses, she was surprised to find that her shirt was completely dry. It wasn’t even cold, and she knew that there was no way that standing inside by the fire for three minutes did the trick. 

“Don’t rush.” He smiled before walking back to his desk, where Crowley was giving him a questioning look. They were thankfully out of earshot from the girl but still spoke in whispers.

“What was _that_ all about?” Crowley asked.

“She’s a student, and was freezing half to death out there in the rain.” Aziraphale was too big-hearted and Crowley swore it would get him in more trouble than he could handle one day. They both glanced at the girl, who was being ever-so-gentle in turning the pages of the antique books. They were books on architecture and restoration and how to preserve old materials. They were books Aziraphale had collected because they were different, but had sat on the shelves collecting dust for decades as no one found any interest in them. In fact, some of had been written in German. 

While the girl’s left hand slowly turned the pages, her right hand was quickly jotting down notes in her notebook. 

“And you’re not worried she’s going to ruin your _precious_ books?” Usually, Aziraphale was such a stickler about who he let touch certain books, which books were allowed to be sold, and so on. He didn’t even _like_ customers, as they would rather buy the old books instead of admiring them. He too even surprised himself when he allowed the girl, whose name he had not gotten, to read through them. But then again, they were just odd books he had collected, not his Wildes. 

Aziraphale shook his head, “She looks harmless, Crowley. Don’t know why you’re so worried.” He picked up his mug of cocoa, heated it back to its desired warmth in his hands, and took a sip.

“Not to mention, she went from soaking wet to bone dry in record time, Mr. Discreet.” 

The girl, desperately trying to translate the German text in front of her, was finding it more difficult than usual with the two men across the room so obviously whispering about her. 

“I can hear you, you know.” She didn’t raise her head from the book, but she could probably tell out of the corner of her eye that she had caught the men’s attention. 

They didn’t talk about her for the rest of the evening — or, at least, they got much better at whispering. 

An hour went by before she finally looked up from the table and saw that the rain had stopped. She packed her things in her bag and Aziraphale stood and excused himself from his and Crowley’s conversation to lock up the shop after she had left. 

“What is it, may I ask, that you’re researching?” The more Aziraphale thought about it, the more intrigued he was on why a young girl would need such peculiar books. He had lots of students come in for books on history and of course, books of famous authors and poets, but this was a first.

“Oh, I’m writing my senior thesis. I study Historic Preservation at University College London.” She slung her bag over her shoulders. “Thank you so much for letting me use those books. You have no idea how much I needed them, and our library didn’t have them. Not that I like our library anyway. It’s far too crowded and noisy and I can never find a place to sit alone.”

With her being dry now, it was the first time Aziraphale really got a good look at the girl. She had dark red hair, almost the shade Crowley’s, and icy-blue eyes that resembled Aziraphale’s. Light freckles were scattered across her nose and cheeks. She was a rather pretty young girl, but she hid behind glasses that didn’t suit her and long hair that she pulled forward to cover her face. Aziraphale could sense things about places and people as well. He could tell when someone was loved or was very loving, he could tell when someone was sad, when they were angry and when they were... _lonely_. And this girl was extremely lonely. 

Aziraphale didn’t know what came over him, but he told the girl that she could come back to the bookshop whenever she needed; that he would make sure no one took the books on her field of study, not that he expected anyone to take them. Perhaps it was because he felt for the girl, as he does most students he sees working themselves to the bone trying to graduate. Or perhaps it was because this girl in front of him was in some desperate need of human interaction. Behind them, Crowley’s jaw might as well have hit the floor. 

She was about to leave when Aziraphale asked, “Oh, and I forgot, what’s your name, dear girl?”

“Oh!” She gave an embarrassed smile. “It’s Eve.”


	2. Then Came a Third

The last time Aziraphale and Crowley met someone who was named in Genesis, the world nearly ended. Of course, Adam had been the Antichrist, but the two had realized long ago that everything happened for a reason, and a girl named Eve didn’t show up on your doorstep nearly a year after a boy named Adam had tried to destroy Earth. 

“Well, good job there, angel.” Crowley took a swig of his wine. 

“I didn’t know her name!” Aziraphale argued. 

“When a meteor or something hits London tomorrow, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Wouldn’t our respective offices had contacted us if there was some sort of evil entity roaming around London?” Crowley said nothing, just shrugged as he took another sip. 

“Well, whatever it is, somebody, somewhere, is trying to send us a message, or a warning, or an omen or whatever.”

Aziraphale walked over to the table that Eve was working at and neatly stacked the architecture books. “I think she was just writing a paper.” He said. 

 

-

 

Sure enough, Eve returned two days after that, after London had successfully not been hit with any meteors. However, she came to find Mr. Fell alone in his shop, and without his friend who was there before. Eve had secretly watched them while she took her notes the other evening. She didn’t always mean to do it, but she loved observing people and watching how they interacted with others. 

Eve was shy and timid around new people. She spoke quietly and quickly and didn’t always make eye contact. With Mr. Fell and his friend, Eve observed that something was most definitely going on between the two of them. Friends didn’t usually linger over gazing at each other. 

Even more-so, what had been bothering her for the past two days then was how her clothes, her hair, and her book bag had dried so quickly and her books and notebooks weren’t at all damaged by the rain. It wasn’t like her bag was entirely waterproof. 

She took the Tube to Mr. Fell’s shop after her last class that day. With his sporadic business hours, she was lucky for him to open that day. She pushed open the door, and the twinkle of the bell caught his attention as he stood at the cashier counter, drinking tea. “Ah, good afternoon,  Eve.”

Eve almost jumped from where she stood at the door. She hadn’t expected the bookseller to remember her at all. After all, she found herself to be quite forgettable. 

“Back for more research?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah. I wanted to make it back yesterday, but I got stuck in the studio all day. I had to finish drawing my elevation.” She started to make her way back to the table and sofa where she sat before, seeing the books she was using as her sources in a neat pile. Before she sat down, she paused and turned back to the bookseller. “Mr. Fell?” 

“Yes? Anything I can help you with?”

“Are you a witch?” 

It came out so childishly and nonchalantly, although it made Aziraphale almost choke on his tea, “A _witch?_ What makes you say that?” 

“Well, it’s just,” she looked back at the fireplace, which wasn’t lit at the moment as that day had been sunny and warm, “people don’t dry off in five minutes.”

_Oh bother, she had noticed,_ Aziraphale thought to himself. _I can’t tell her I’m not a witch, there’s no other explanation. And if I’m not a witch, what else am I? Oh, I wish Crowley was here. He’s always good at averting a crisis._

“I’m not a witch… I’m, well, an angel.” Aziraphale clasped his hands in front of him, bracing himself for whatever reaction the girl would have.  

What he didn’t brace himself for was her breaking out into laughter. She started to shrug her bag off of her shoulders, “Yeah, _okay_. You know, I’m not going to burn you at the stake if you really _are_ a witch.” 

Aziraphale sighed. Eve continued giggling and there was the sound of rustling feathers and then the loud _‘thump’_ of her book bag on the hardwood floor. Aziraphale had magnificent white wings that somehow glowed like they were made of diamonds. Eve gaped at them, speechless before the English language entered her mind again. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

“Quite the opposite, actually,” Aziraphale smirked and his wings disappeared. 

“And your friend? Is he an angel as well?”

“Crowley? No, he’s… a demon.”

“ _Ha!_ ” Eve let out and brought her palm to her forehead like she was checking to see if this was all just a fever dream. “A bloody demon and a bloody angel…” She slowly sat down on the sofa, still looking flabbergasted. 

“You mustn’t tell anyone, though.”

“Who would I tell? And even then, they’d call me crazy for even _saying_ it!” She looked at the books, but couldn’t find it within herself to concentrate on schoolwork when there was something much more interesting going on. “So, I guess your name isn’t _really_ A.Z. Fell, then.”

Aziraphale shook his head. “It’s just Aziraphale.”

“Aziraphale,” Eve repeated, testing the pronunciation. “I like that much better.” She gave a small smile, now having absorbed the fact that she was in the company of a celestial being. “So, how did you two meet?”

“It’s a long story, actually.”

“I’ve got time.” Eve shrugged. And that was how the two of them ended up talking for hours on the sofa. Well, actually, Aziraphale did most of the talking, while Eve intently listened. He told her his and Crowley’s story, from the very beginning in the Garden of Eden, to Ancient Rome, to the sixteenth century, to the Victorian era, to both World Wars, and coming to a close at the Apocalypse-that-didn’t-happen. 

“So, you’re telling me that the world almost ended a year ago?”

“You mean you don’t remember anything from that day? Or even that week?”

Eve shook her head, “I must’ve been in the studio.” She laughed. The studio was a windowless room crowded with drafting tables and uncomfortable stools. She spent sometimes hours on end in there, even to early in the mornings, working on her elevations and floor plans and details. 

“This shop actually burnt down, but the next morning, everything was back to normal, not a scratch on anything.”

Eve looked around the shop, at all of the books so carefully cared for, and not to mention the warm and cozy aesthetic. It would have been sad if this place actually had burnt down and remained that way. Plus, she would have never been able to get the books she needed for her thesis. And she would have never met Aziraphale. 

When you are lonely, it’s easy for you to find yourself attached to people, even if you just met them. You may find ways to entertain yourself, like reading a lot or daydreaming, creating worlds and stories and scenarios that would never happen. When someone allows you to talk, you talk and talk because there’s so much that’s gone unsaid within you. And Aziraphale was very kind to the young girl and welcoming, and besides, he was a literal angel so what wasn’t there to not trust or not like about him. And his bookshop was just as warm and welcoming, and Eve found herself excited to return there, even if it meant having to work on her paper. 

Likewise, an angel can only go for so long enjoying the same company. Not that he ever grew tired of Crowley; there was no such thing of growing tired of the wily demon. But he and Crowley had heard each other’s stories. Actually, they had been there for most of one another’s stories. But it was nice to have someone new to tell those stories to. It was quite fun to watch Eve’s face in awe as Aziraphale told his story. 

When he finished, Eve was sitting with her chin her palm, a warm smile on her face. “That was the best story I’ve ever heard.” 

“Thank you, dear.” At some point in the midst of all that storytelling, Aziraphale had, what he told Eve, “miracled” some hot cocoa for the two of them and was just finishing his mug up, Eve’s long gone. 

“So, are you together now?” She asked curiously.

Aziraphale looked thoroughly confused. “What do you mean? Are who together?”

“You and Crowley, of course.” 

Now it was Aziraphale who burst into laughter, “Oh, you sweet child. H - he and I aren’t together!” 

_Well, that story sure as hell sounded like a 6,000-year romance story_ , she thought. “My apologies. It’s just, you seemed close, and the way you speak of him...”

“Oh, Crowley is only my best friend. Besides, I highly doubt demons are even capable of being in relationships - not any more than angels are.”

“I guess you’re right.” But she knew something was off with him. He was so flustered about it, there was no way they were “just friends.” Eve looked at Aziraphale’s grandfather clock, which had just hit the next hour. “Oh, shoot. It’s late. I really have better get going.” She stood and slung her bag over her shoulder. “Thank you again. And, it was nice to finally meet you, Aziraphale.”

“Likewise, Eve.” He smiled and let her out, and as she was walking out the door, a 1930s Bentley pulled up in front of the shop with a screech. Crowley got out and almost walked completely past Eve if she hadn’t said, “Hi, Crowley,” in an almost knowing tone. The demon stopped and looked at her quizzically before she waved to them both and walked down the street. 

When she was gone, Crowley turned to Aziraphale, “What was _that_ all about?”

“You must have known she’d come back to do more research, Crowley?”

“Not that! How’d she know my name?” Aziraphale stepped aside to let Crowley in and shut the door, but kept his gaze to the floor. 

“Well... I told her.”

“What? You told her what?”

Aziraphale bit his lip before saying, “Everything.”

“Aziraphale! What in Hell’s name were you thinking?”

“She asked! Well, she asked after she had accused me of being a _witch_!”

“Oh, so telling her you’re an angel is much better than being accused of some occultism and light magic?”

“Well, when you put it that way. You needn’t worry, Crowley, she said our secret is safe.”

“It’d be even safer if you had just kept your mouth shut.” Crowley whisked over to Aziraphale’s desk and the old sofa that had been his for years and plopped down. 

Aziraphale, of course, didn’t tell Crowley that Eve had thought that the two of them were together. After the Armageddon-that-wasn’t, the mood had shifted between them. Before, they would occasionally meet up, go to the park together, talk for an hour or two in Aziraphale’s shop. Now, it felt like they were almost always together, and closer to one another, physically. It was just a hand on the knee or on the arm, but they lingered for longer than what may be socially acceptable, and it made Aziraphale’s heart beat so loud, he was surprised Crowley couldn’t hear it. 

There was always that lingering urge, that ache in his chest, the twitch in his fingers, to reach out and take Crowley’s hand and feel what kissing his lips would feel like. He had always been curious, but he managed to subside it for thousands of years. Until the Second World War when Crowley had saved him in that church and saved his books nonetheless. That had been the nail on the coffin. 

But he’d never tell Crowley that. Instead, he told him, “Eve said you’re the _prettiest_ demon she’s ever seen.”

Crowley rolled his eyes, “She thinks she can buy me over with some sweet words?” He miracled himself a drink and took a sip and then grumbled, “Although, it is true.”

“Wholly,” Aziraphale smirked. Crowley just took another drink, hoping to hide his pink cheeks with his glass. 


	3. Two Idiots and a Girl

The next two times Eve visited the bookshop, Crowley was there in the opposite corner, chatting with Aziraphale. Both times, she entered the shop, and greeted Crowley with a hello, a wave and a shy smile. Then she briefly caught up with Aziraphale before excusing herself to her own corner. She actually got more of her paper done, and she had to at this point since she decided to take another route when Aziraphale gave her more books on the subject and she found that she could do so much more with it. 

She came to the shop immediately after her last class of the day, that is, if she wasn’t forced to be stuck inside the studio, and she left when Aziraphale “closed.” She had gotten into the habit of helping him with closing, dusting off the shelves and making sure all of the books were in their rightful place. It was usually late when that happened, so Aziraphale had taken upon setting a sandwich at her table, some tea in the afternoon, hot cocoa before she made the trek home. And while they didn’t speak much, as Aziraphale left her alone to work on her paper, she would sometimes observe the angel and the demon from across the shop. Not dating, my ass, she thought. It was fun, knowing so many secrets. The secret that Aziraphale and Crowley were an angel and a demon, and the secret that neither of them knew: that they were absolutely smitten with one another. 

On the third visit, Eve entered the shop to find it oddly crowded. She’d never seen so many people in the shop before, and it strangely agitated her. 

She could have committed murder when she saw other people in her unofficial spot, reading and discussing a book together. 

“Eve, my dear,” Aziraphale called from behind her. He was held up with a customer asking too many stupid questions. “Just go sit at my desk.”

But Crowley was back there, pretending to flip through a book, but he too was glaring at all of the people inside the shop. Eve sighed and tried not to stomp over to the table and scoop up her books that Aziraphale always left stacked and ready for her, but she didn’t hold back the death glare she gave the couple as she turned away. 

She really needed to work on this paper. And she really needed to study for her Architectural History test the next day, but that could wait until the place emptied out a bit. 

She set down the books and sat down. Crowley looked up from his book and raised a brow, and when answered with a quick smile before she went to reading, he went back to pretending to read. 

A few hours passed and Eve sat up, pushed her glasses up onto her forehead and rubbed her eyes. She was starting to get weary from reading small, boring print. She looked over at Crowley, who wasn’t glaring at his book, or around the room, but at one fixated point. She followed his line of sight to a man standing at the cashier counter with Aziraphale. The angel was blushing like mad and kept shifting his weight back and forth, obviously flustered. The man talking to him flirted with him shamelessly. 

Crowley grit his teeth but did nothing. Eve smirked, Bingo. She pushed her glasses back down to her nose and got up and made her way over to the two men. “Excuse me, Mr. Fell, do you happen to have any more books on Baroque Architecture? I want to write more about it, but I need some more sources.”

She could see Aziraphale’s shoulders relax. “Eve,” he smiled. “Yes, I just may. Let me go check in the back room.” He excused himself from the man and vanished off to the back room. 

Eve turned to the man and raised her brow expectedly and gave him a rather bitchy look. “There’s a lot of books back there, could take him a while. You might as well go.”

“Oh, I can wait,” the man laughed her off. 

Her eyes narrowed and her voice deepened. “Leave.” He looked shocked and slowly backed away from her before he made his quick exit from the shop. 

She made her way back to Aziraphale’s desk. Incredible how simple body language can mean a thousand words. 

“Did you really just do that?” Crowley’s raised eyebrows asked. 

“Perhaps,” her shrug replied. 

“Not bad, kid.” His smirk said. 

Aziraphale soon returned with several more books, sooner than Eve told the flirtatious man. He looked around as he set down the books. “Here you are. Where did he go?”

“Oh, he left. Said something about having to leave in a hurry.” Aziraphale nodded and went back to busting himself at the front of the shop. Eve muttered under her breath, “Something about having to go fuck himself.”

This earned a snort out of Crowley, who wasn’t intended to hear it, but Eve was glad he did. More brownie points for her. 

As the day went by, the shop became less crowded. Eve could have returned back to her corner, but she decided to stay where she was and pull out her stack of flashcards. Not like Crowley was doing anything important that he would be bothered by her studying. 

Even though Crowley’s eyes were covered by his sunglasses, his gazing at Aziraphale did not go unnoticed, at least not by Eve. She had written off both of them as completely oblivious to the other’s pining over each other after her long talk with Aziraphale. She couldn’t help but smile as she watched from the corner of her eye, Crowley’s head moving back and forth, following Aziraphale as he went about the shop. Idiots, she thought. 

Studying for Eve was like a process of elimination. She had studied like this since primary school and had been extremely successful since, so there wasn’t any use in changing her methods when she entered University. The Architectural History exam seemed simple, in theory. The professor showed a photo of a building on the screen, and the students had to write the name, architect, location, and year (give or take five years) on their paper, easy enough. Except that Eve was struggling over the same buildings over and over and over again. The cards that she answered correctly went in one pile, and the ones she needed to study more went in another. So far, out of forty cards, only four remained in the come-back-to-it-later pile.

She had started out mumbling the answers, but now, thirty minutes later, she was growling the names of architects and years through her teeth and slamming down the same four cards. Crowley now turned his attention to her, as she was, at the moment, more interesting than Aziraphale reorganizing his bookshelves. 

Eve took a deep breath and leaned back in her chair, dipping her head back so that she looked up at the ceiling. Crowley took the four cards from Aziraphale’s desk and shuffled them, and then read aloud the name of the building from the front of the index card. Eve had to name the remaining information that was written on the back. She answered the architect’s name and location with ease, but her date was almost a hundred years off. Crowley checked: it was the date of the building on the next card. 

“No, see, you’re just trying to memorize it. You’re not going to learn that way. You seem clever enough, think of the building’s style, think of who the architect is. Then take your best shot at the date.”

Eve day up and furrowed her brow, “Erm, the 1850s?”

“Well, it says the date is 1854-56, but that’s close enough.” Crowley passed her the card to put in the “correct” pile.

Eve grinned, “He said as long as we’re in a five-year range, he’ll count it.”

“There you go,” Eve could’ve sworn there was a hint of a smile there. 

He continued to quiz her until there was one card left. She kept getting hung up on the date, which was 1642, which was as random as a date could get. Crowley finally told her that missing one date was not going to make or break her grade. Then he took all forty cards, shuffled them around, and quizzed her one last time. There were a few that she had to take time answering, but most only took her a few seconds. And the 1642 card, she was off by 8 years, which Crowley thought was close enough. By the time they were finished, Aziraphale had already closed up shop and was sitting next to Crowley, watching the two of them. 

Eve went home that night not as anxious as she had been for tests in the past, and it was nice to wake up the next morning and not want to throw up as she walked to her lecture hall. She got an A on the test and got only a half of a point taken off for an incorrect date. She answered 1650.

When she left, Aziraphale smiled at his friend. “That was kind of you.”

“Don’t, angel.” Crowley held up his hand. “I’m a demon; I don’t do nice. But I also don’t enforce torture, and that’s what the kid was going through.”

Aziraphale still kept his smile, “Oh, so Eve has been promoted from ‘she’ to the ‘the kid’ now?”

“Shut up and drink your bloody hot cocoa.”

 

-

 

Eve didn’t come back for the next two days, as it was the weekend, and her eyes needed a break from staring at text, so she would strain them by staring at a screen, converting her scribbled notes into an actual comprehensible paper. 

When she walked to the shop on Monday afternoon, it was pouring again. Thankfully, she had invested in a fold-up umbrella that fit in her bag, so she didn’t arrive at Aziraphale’s soaking wet.  But as she approached the shop, she noticed that Aziraphale had drawn the blinds and the “Sorry, We’re Closed” sign was out and that there was shouting from inside. She slowly approached the door and made a quick step to the right when it swung open and Crowley stomped out in a hurry. If it wasn’t raining so hard, Eve could have seen the steam coming out of Crowley’s ears. 

She didn’t get a good at Crowley’s face, but she could see that Aziraphale’s was visibly upset. He was standing in the middle of the room, and with the lights off in the store and the dark storm clouds above, it made it look like it was nighttime. Eve shook off the water from her umbrella and folded the umbrella back up and went inside. 

“Aziraphale?” She shut the door behind her. 

“I see you’ve gotten yourself an umbrella.” He said, trying to lighten up the mood. 

She gave him a sad smile, “Want to talk about it?”

He shook his head as she took off her coat and hung it up on the hook by the door, along with setting her bag down. She knew that there was not getting any work done that day. 

“C’mon, let’s sit.” She took his arm and walked over to the sofa near his desk. Eve had unofficially named it Crowley’s Sofa since he was always sitting there when she came into the shop. 

“Would you like anything?” Aziraphale asked, trying to force a smile. His eyes looked so sad and tired. 

“No, thank you.” He miracled himself hot cocoa. The man’s gonna turn his blood into cocoa, she thought. What he really needed was a hard drink but to each his own. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, certainly.”

“Liar.” 

Aziraphale drank his cocoa and stared down into the mug. “I said something terrible to him...” Eve didn’t say anything but turned to face him so that he knew he had her full attention. “You... know that I hold my Wildes very dear to my heart?” She nodded. “I... and please don’t pass judgment,” as I could ever pass judgment on an angel, but okay, “but when Oscar was alive... he and I... well...” Aziraphale’s cheeks turned a dark pink and it finally hit Eve. Oh. Oh. 

“I get it, but go on.”

“Crowley never understood why I was infatuated with him. Whenever I brought him up, he turned sour. And then today, everything was going quite well, and I had mentioned Oscar, only in passing, but then Crowley got... well, how he gets, and we got into a spat and then...” He took a deep breath. “I told him he wasn’t capable of love, that there’s no possible way that a demon could ever love someone or know what it’s like to be loved...”

Eve was shocked, honestly. Here, she had thought that Crowley would be the harsh one. “When we’re upset, we aren’t always aware of what we’re saying, or how it’ll make the other person feel. But I must say, Aziraphale.” He tore his attention away from his mug to her. “You are an idiot.” 

Aziraphale’s eyes widened, and she could see that tears were starting to form. “Pardon?”

“You know what you said to him wasn’t only hurtful, but also a complete lie. Of course, he gets upset when you talk about Oscar Wilde; he’s jealous. I’ve only known the two of you for a week now and I can see the way you look at one another. And of course, Crowley is capable of love, he-“ she paused. She had to think about this carefully, choose her wording wisely. “-He has risked his life as much as you have to be there for each other. And saved you countless times. You’ve put up with each other for 6,000 years, and you’re going to look me in the eyes and tell me that you have absolutely no feelings for him?”

“I - I... I can’t...” 

“Why the hell not?”

“He’s a demon, Eve. And I’m an angel. We’re supposed to be enemies. It’s bad enough we’re friends, I can’t imagine what would happen to us if we ever became anything more.”

She sighed, “What’s the worst thing that could happen? Honestly, what is the worst case scenario?”

“I could Fall? We could both die?”

“Or nothing could happen at all? You said it yourself, Heaven and Hell has pretty much gotten off your backs. I’m sure they’ve both got much bigger fish to fry.” Eve looked at the door. The rain had picked up, and she felt that Crowley wasn’t going to come back anytime soon, even though his Bentley was still parked out front. “The world could end tomorrow. Not in some biblical way, but nuclear warfare, World War III, no warning. We all die, you, Crowley, everyone. And the last thing you would have said to him is that he would never be loved.” 

Now tears flowed freely down Aziraphale’s cheeks, and Eve tried her best not to tear up as well. 

“I don’t want to watch you live your life in regret, Aziraphale. And I can’t continue to watch you torture yourselves over each other. You’re just going to live your life in heartbreak.” 

“I don’t know how to fix this, Eve.” He told her. She didn’t really know how to fix it either. It wasn’t her place to go to Crowley and say, “Hey, Aziraphale was being stupid, but he does love you!” They would have to come to that conclusion on their own. That didn’t mean that she couldn’t at least help them get in the right direction. 

She sighed and stood and walked over to the door to put on her coat and grab her umbrella. “Where are you going now?” Aziraphale asked. 

“To go find the other idiot.” She opened the door; it was still pouring. “Any ideas where he might be?”

 

-

 

St. James’s Park was Aziraphale’s first suggestion, and she was glad he had been correct. There was no one else in the park, so the man in black clothes with dark red hair sitting alone in a bench in front of the pond was easy to spot. 

She walked over to him, her footsteps muffled by the sound of rain. Crowley was sitting on the bench with his head in his hands. No use in keeping his sunglasses on; he was alone and they were filling up with water anyway. He was completely drenched, and then suddenly, the rain stopped hitting him but continued to pour around him. 

He looked up to find Eve standing over him, covering him with her umbrella. “What the hell are you doing here?”

It was the first time Eve had seen his eyes. They reminded her of a snake’s. “Cool eyes.” She said and sat down next to him, close enough so that they were both covered by the umbrella. “Let’s talk, Crowley.”

Crowley groaned. He really did not want to be bothered by anyone at the moment, especially the kid. But he knew there was no squirming his way out of this. 

“Aziraphale told me what happened.”

“And?” he asked. 

“I told him he was an idiot. You’re being one, too, you know. Living your life wallowing in the fact that you’ve been smitten with him for God knows how long. Pair of stubborn bastards, you are.”

Crowley stared at the girl. Not only was this the most she’s ever spoken to him, but she also spoke with a ferocity he, in a million years, would never expect from someone like her. “Just talk to him...”

“There’s nothing I have to say to him,” he crossed his arms and his wet shirt squelched under his arms. 

“Then listen to what he has to say?” 

He stayed silent, just looking at the pond. There were no ducks. Did ducks go and find shelter when it rained? Were they bothered by the rain? Water slid right off them, didn’t it?

“How upset was he?” He asked. 

“There were tears.” She replied. He also said that he loved you, you idiot, but that’s not my place to say. 

Crowley sighed and took the umbrella from Eve’s hand and stood. “Come on, then.” 

She followed him in silence, the two of them trying their best to stay sheltered from the rain under her tiny umbrella. 

They stopped in front of the bookshop door. Inside, it was still dark and the blinds were closed. Eve looked up at Crowley. “Hear him out, and try not to say anything hurtful.” She could tell he had rolled his eyes, even from behind his sunglasses. He must have miracled himself dry because his hair and clothes were no longer sopping wet. 

Eve took the umbrella back and held the door open for him, and stepped inside just enough to grab her bag while her hand holding her umbrella kept the door open. 

Aziraphale stood in the middle of the shop with a book in his hands. Before she left, she gave Aziraphale a sad smile and shut the door behind her and made her way home. 

Inside the shop, the tension could have been cut with a chainsaw. Both men stood at opposite ends, and it was Crowley who finally broke the silence. 

“So, you’ve got the kid doing your dirty work for you now?” He hadn't meant it to come out so venomous. 

“She went after you on her own.”

Crowley shoved his hands in his pockets and crossed the room to stand in front of the angel and took off his glasses, his slit eyes narrowed, while Aziraphale’s own icy blue eyes were bloodshot. 

Though Crowley was dry, he still smelled of the rain and the blooming flowers from the park. Aziraphale always smelled of old books and hints of cocoa. It was a smell Crowley had grown used to and found comfort in. But now as he looked at Aziraphale, he didn’t know if he wanted to hurt him or kiss him. 

“Crowley, I - “

Crowley held up a hand to stop him. “No, you don’t get to talk.” Aziraphale snapped his jaw shut. “For being so, so clever, you really are the biggest idiot I have ever met in six thousand years. You’re supposed to be all about love.  How could you not feel it?”

Of course, I felt it, Aziraphale thought, but he stayed shut up. I feel it. 

Crowley knew he was just digging himself an even deeper grave. But now he was talking and could not for the life of him get himself to stop. “For six thousand years, we’ve put up with each other.”

Aziraphale wanted to say, “I know, and I’m sorry, and I was stupid and said things I didn’t mean.” He wanted to say, “I know, and you have every right to get jealous when I bring up Oscar because I did it because I knew I could never have you.” He wanted to desperately tell him, “I know, but shut up before I do something stupid and end up in Hellfire.”

But instead, he didn’t say anything. He just did. Hellfire be damned. Literally.

Crowley’s ranting was cut off abruptly with a chaste kiss. Neither of them burned. The Earth did not open up below them nor did the sky fall from above. 

And so Crowley pulled Aziraphale back for another and Aziraphale brought his hand up to Crowley’s jaw to steady him, while Crowley’s hand pressed against Aziraphale’s lower back. And another. Until they melted into each other. They pulled apart, but only enough to look in each other’s eyes. They both were flushed and breathing heavily. 

“Crowley...”

“Shut up, angel.”

Crowley pulled him close and kissed him again. And Aziraphale did not Fall. 


	4. Mazel Tov to the Graduate!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be the last chapter of the first part of this series. The second part is coming very soon, so sit tight!

“So,” Eve sat next to Crowley on the worn out sofa next to Aziraphale’s desk. 

It had been two months since Crowley and Aziraphale had “gotten together,” as Eve said, although they had always been together, turns out. It’s just now, their relationship had made that next step forward into kissing and touching and... more. 

When Aziraphale first told Eve, she had been all for spending hours with him talking about his new relationship, even though Eve told him she had no experience with love except for what she read in books or saw in movies. But when their relationship had escalated, she told him to leave it at that, but that she was happy for them. 

Her and Aziraphale only grew closer over the months. She had taken to calling him Zira, and Aziraphale never had the heart to tell her otherwise. He’d learn to love it anyway. It was worth Eve’s smile and laughter, and the aura of loneliness disappearing from around her. 

Crowley had also opened up to Eve and even addressed her by her name, although “kid” had become an endearing nickname that he gave her. When Aziraphale was busy with customers, though they were rare, he would talk to her about anything. As it turned out, Crowley had skimmed the books Eve researched, since he wanted to see just what Eve found so interesting that she would spend hours on end in a dim bookshop straining her eyes for. 

Speaking of her eyes, Crowley had snatched Eve’s glasses off of Aziraphale’s desk when she set them down to rub her eyes one night. He picked them up and peered through them. “How bloody blind _are_ you?” 

She looked over at him; his face was a blurry mess of skin and red hair and yellow eyes. “Legally, technically. Can’t really see your face, just your general shape.” She gestured her hand to his face. 

Crowley nodded, or at least she thought he did by his movement and handed Eve her glasses. The frames felt different in her hands. For one, they felt like plastic now instead of her wire-rim glasses and were more rounded than her’s. She put them on and everything in the room became crisp and clear again. 

“There. Those suit you much better.” Crowley said. Eve grabbed her phone and swiped to put on the camera. They were completely different glasses. And he was right, they did suit her better. 

So, Eve rather enjoyed having someone take an interest in her passion. Most people didn’t know what she was talking about when she mentioned it or found it a waste of a degree. Sometimes when he could, Aziraphale would listen in when the shop was empty. When she really got into a passionate tirade of her loathing of American mid-century modern architecture, Aziraphale closed the whole shop.  She mostly enjoyed telling him and Aziraphale of her semester abroad in America a year prior. She had gone to the College of Charleston in Charleston, South Carolina, one of the best and _only_ schools in America for Historic Preservation. It was there she learned how to research buildings, learn the condensed history of American Architecture, which she then went on a tangent about how it wasn’t “American” at all, and conserve historic materials. 

But it did hinder her focus on her paper, but she pulled a few all-nighters to finish it. When she finally finished her first complete draft of her senior thesis, she handed the thick stack of papers to Crowley. 

“What would you like me to do with this?” He asked, bobbing the paper in his hands. It weighed a ton ands held together by a binder clip because a staple wouldn’t go through it.

“Edit it? I’ve already gone through and fixed the small, grammatical errors, but I need someone to read it over and make sure it’s coherent and, well, good.”

“I think this is more in Aziraphale’s field.” He tried to hand her back the paper, but she shook her head and pushed it back to him. 

“No. I need feedback, positive or negative. And Zira will only give me positive. I need you to rip this thesis apart.” She handed him a red pen and edited her paper. Three drafts later and it was finally complete.

That was how she ended up where she sat, with her laptop opened to the Dropbox Submission page. The file had been converted to a Word Doc and uploaded it. Now all she had to do was hit ‘Submit.’ 

“What does the ‘J’ stand for again?” She asked them. She was referring to the ‘J’ in Anthony J. Crowley. 

“Stop stalling, Eve, and just submit the paper already,” Aziraphale told her. 

“You’ve edited over and over, read through it, read through it backward. The sooner you let go of it, the sooner you can relax.” Crowley added.

“You’re right,” she said and took a deep breath and clicked ‘Submit.’  All at once her shoulders relaxed, her jaw unclenched, and it felt like a weight had been lifted from her chest.

Crowley clapped a hand on Eve’s shoulder. “Now you only have to worry about your exams.”

Eve groaned and pushed her glasses up onto her forehead to pinch the bridge of her nose. “And the stress is back.” 

“No use in worrying about it now, dear girl,” Aziraphale said and handed Eve a glass of wine. She wished it was something stronger. “You’ll be just fine on your exams as well. Aren’t they just on what you’ve been writing your paper on?”

She nodded, “Pretty much. I’ve just got to study some more.” She took a deep breath and drank her wine, finishing off her glass. 

“It’s Janthony, by the way,” Aziraphale said with a smirk. 

“Pardon?”

“The ‘J’ in Crowley’s name. It’s Janthony.”

“No…” she turned to Crowley, who said nothing but shot back the rest of his wine. “ _No_ , tell me you’re joking.” He and Aziraphale both shook their heads. 

“Fucking Christ…” she giggled and held out her glass. “I need more to deal with you idiots.”

 

-

 

For that next week, Eve spent a lot of long nights pulling more all-nighters in Aziraphale’s bookshop. While she didn’t have much use for the architecture books anymore, she still despised working in her school’s library and from what Aziraphale could tell, hated being in her own dorm. 

He didn’t mind, either. He found no use for sleep, unlike Crowley, and enjoyed having Eve around. He was afraid that once she finished her paper, she would disappear. The truth was, she had grown rather attached to the bookshop and the angel and demon inside it. 

Some nights Crowley spent at his own apartment, others he spent at Aziraphale’s, which was becoming more frequent. But as a demon cursed by Sloth, he went to bed at a reasonable time. 

On the night before her last exam, she spent it at Aziraphale’s shop. At one o’clock in the morning, Aziraphale shut her textbook, saying if she didn’t know the information by then, then there was no use. But he had been watching her study for hours, and she _did_ know the information; knew it like the back of her hand. So, she passed out on the sofa and was out the door by seven o’clock the next morning, too anxious to say goodbye. 

Eve hadn’t even told them when her exam was, which was why she was surprised to find both Aziraphale and Crowley standing outside of the Bartlett Building, waiting for her with the Bentley. 

She came out of the building, along with the rest of her classmates, but stopped dead when she saw them. She had changed that morning when she got to campus, having only just enough time to run to her dorm, change very quickly, and run back to The Bartlett. 

Crowley had said something to her once about “dress well, do well,” and she figured that going to the last exam she would ever take in her life in a baggy t-shirt and sweatpants. So, she threw on a skirt and a UCL pullover. 

Other students were starting to stare, whether it was at the beautiful Bentley or the unrealistically beautiful men standing in front of it. Eve was staring at the latter, not even sure what to do or say. 

She gave a small wave and slowly made her way over to the car. _Oh God,_ she thought to herself. Sure, she was surprised to see them, but she was exhausted and her brain felt fried and heavy from her long three-Hour-long exam. 

“Hello, dear girl.” Aziraphale grinned. “How was your exam?” 

“I…” _I want to cry and then sleep until graduation,_ she thought. “It was okay… I don’t think I failed, at least.”

“Well, then that’s enough reason to celebrate.” He opened the car door and pushed the seat forward so that she could get into the back. 

She had never been in Crowley’s Bentley, and even though it was a ninety-year-old car, it still looked brand new. In the back seat with her was a basket. She peeked inside to find sandwiches, a blanket, and a bottle of wine. 

“Where are we going?” Eve asked as Crowley and Aziraphale got into the car. 

“The park,” Crowley said before he started the engine and the car sped forward. She felt like she was on a roller coaster, her back pressed against the seat from the force. Going 90mph through central London, they were there in a third of the time with a screeching halt. They miraculously found a space right at the front entrance to St. James’s Park that she was sure wasn’t a legal space.

“Jesus…” she whispered, her hands still gripping the leather seats for dear life. 

Aziraphale turned to look over his shoulder, “Sorry, dear. I should have warned you that Crowley goes a bit fast.”

“A _bit?_ ” Crowley let her out of the car and she looked down at the basket in her hands. “So, a picnic?”

“You’ve submitted your dissertation, you’ve finished your exams, you graduate in a week,” Aziraphale said. “You deserve to relax and celebrate.” 

“With wine and chocolate,” Crowley added. 

“Oh, you two are the best.” She grinned. 

They found a space in the grass near the pond that wasn’t crowded by secret agents, but close enough to the ducks. Eve peeled off the crust of her sandwich and threw it to a family of ducklings. 

An hour later, Eve’s head ended up in Aziraphale’s lap, slightly wine tipsy. “Explain it again.”

Crowley sighed. He and Aziraphale were trying to explain what exactly Heaven and Hell were like, but of course, it was difficult to explain to a human. “Hell is not like they describe it in literature. It’s not all Hellfire and the River Styx. Everyone has their own personal Hell, but Satan isn’t just walking around. Really, it’s just one big crowded office building with oozing walls.”

Eve made a face and Aziraphale added, “And Heaven is quite the opposite. It’s blindingly bright and open and sterile. But, it’s also rather like an office building just... nicer.”

“Do people have their own personal Heavens as well?” Eve asked. “Like, when you die, do you see all your dead relatives and stuff?”

“Yes. And some Heavens overlap.”

Eve stared up at the sky. _Was Heaven up there? Was it in the clouds like they taught children, or was it in a completely different universe? Or maybe it was way past the stars. After all, the universe hasn’t all been explored yet._ “Where do you think I’ll go when I die?”

Aziraphale and Crowley looked at one another, waiting for the other to speak first. “Er... why are you worrying about that now?” Crowley asked. 

“Yes, you’re young and you have a very _very_ long time before you need to even think about that.”

“I just want to know. You know, what to expect.” Eve wasn’t looking at either of them; she was still staring up at the sky. 

“Of course you’ll go to Heaven, dear girl.” Aziraphale smiled. 

“Don’t really think you’re capable of landing yourself down there, anyway,” Crowley said. 

Eve smirked. “Can I tell you something?” She looked up at Aziraphale, Crowley not in her view. “I’m actually Jewish... So I don’t think I believe in either Heaven or Hell. Well, I know they exist now, but growing up, I didn’t.”

Crowley and Aziraphale looked at each other and then back at Eve and the three burst into laughter. It was all just too ironic. According to Jewish belief, Jews didn’t necessarily believe in an afterlife that included a Heaven or Hell, nor did they necessarily believe in Demons. However, they did believe that angels exist. Not that Eve led her life by Jewish belief to a tee; she really loved bacon too much. 

“Oh!” Eve shot up. “I almost forgot!” She dug around in her book bag and pulled out an envelope and handed it to Crowley. 

“What’s this?” He opened it to find two tickets. 

“Well, I graduate next week and each graduate gets two tickets. You both were instrumental to my dissertation and me getting through exams so... I was hoping you would come? The ceremony is at ten o’clock on a Saturday morning so I’d understand if you didn’t want to but-“

“Wouldn’t your family want to go, Eve?” Aziraphale asked. 

She gave him a sad smile, “You... pretty much are my family.”

Aziraphale felt a pang in his chest. Even Crowley’s heart broke for the girl. “Of course we’ll be there,” he assured her. 

 

-

Crowley only slightly regretted it the next Saturday morning when he had to wake up at six-thirty in the morning to get ready. In the apartment above the bookshop, Aziraphale, already dressed, made Crowley a cup of coffee. 

“The ceremony isn’t until ten!” Crowley groaned. He was fidgeting with his tie in the mirror. 

Aziraphale set the mug down on the side table and stood behind Crowley. He brought his hands around him and fixed his tie into a Windsor knot. “It’s not every day our Eve graduates from University. We should get there early to get good seats.”

“ _Our_ Eve...” Crowley repeated. 

Aziraphale smiled fondly. “Yes. Wait, you almost never wear a tie.”

Crowley raised a brow and picked up his coffee. “It’s not every day our Eve graduates University.” He smirked and left the room, but that word still lingered. “Our.” A few months ago, Eve was nothing more than an anxious university student who showed up on Aziraphale’s doorstep one afternoon looking for some books. Now she had become part of their lives. 

 

-

 

Eve hadn’t seen Crowley or Aziraphale since their picnic, and as she fussed with the purple and light blue hood of her graduation gown, she was worried they wouldn’t show after all. She wouldn’t blame them; she was just some random girl who frequented the bookshop. They probably paid no mind to her, but Eve had dug her hole deep and allowed herself to get attached to them. When they called for graduates to get into their places and get ready to go out, Eve tossed on her cap and got in line. 

Then a wave of relief washed over her when she spotted bright red hair and white-blonde hair amongst the crowd. She felt like she could run a mile in the damn heels she wore from the proud energy they were radiating. 

“She looks beautiful,” Aziraphale whispered. 

“It’s graduation, angel, not her wedding.”

“Yes, but look she’s smiling, she’s bright.”

“She’s _taller_.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “She’s wearing heels, dear.”

The graduates sat in the seats up front and ordered by last names.

First, the President of University College London spoke and welcomed the graduates of 2020 and speaking on tradition. Eve wondered if the Aziraphale and Crowley were dozing off in their seats like she was. 

Then the Dean of Students went up to speak and Eve perked up. “It is my honor to welcome an extraordinary student to the stage. This young woman is graduating today with Summa Cum Laude from The Bartlett School of Architecture. She is graduating in just three years. She is your Student President of the Class of 2020, Miss Thompson.”

Eve stood and quickly glanced back at Crowley and Aziraphale’s surprised faces and Crowley lean over to whisper something to the angel as she walked up on stage. 

“Did you know this?” Crowley asked. 

He shook his head. “I didn’t even know her last name was Thompson.” She had never mentioned that she was student body president or that her grades were so high. 

Eve took a deep breath as she looked out onto the sea of people. She had always hated public speaking but was honored to speak at her graduation. Her speech was already printed out for her and she gripped the podium and found Crowley and Aziraphale. Her guardian angels. 

“Students, professors, board members, and family, good morning. My name is Eve Thompson. I am here today to not only talk about success but also of coming to terms with failure.

“Winston Churchill said, ‘Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.’ We did not get here to this day by giving up completely the first time we failed. And we will not get anywhere in life beyond this point if we choose to lie belly-up and give up. 

“Failure is inevitable. It is humiliating and for a moment, we do think it’s fatal. It is human nature to go through every possible scenario of failing. If I fail this test, then I fail the class, then I fail senior year, then I fail out of university, and I’ll never get a job and I’ll be stuck living on my parent’s couch until I’m forty, all because I failed that history pop quiz! You can choose to let your mind lead you on this and let that feeling consume you. And the danger is, if you start to believe in something enough, it will start to come true. This is called a self-fulfilling prophecy.

“Or, you could step back and evaluate the situation. You can choose to study harder next time, and be confident in yourself that you will achieve your goal. That is struggle, and it is the trait that got all of us here today. Make your self-fulfilling prophecy one of success— make your mantra, ‘I can do it,’ not, ‘I’ll never be able to.’

“We must not be afraid to fail; if we are, then we will live our entire lives in fear because no successful person ever got to where he or she was because they accepted their failures and gave up. Abraham Lincoln was defeated eleven times, that’s almost every time he ran for public office, and yet in 1860, he became the sixteenth president of the United States. How did this happen? He didn’t let himself be defined by failure and he didn’t quit.

“I was a student that was absolutely terrified of failing. I always wanted to be on top; the best at everything. I thought that it would make me feel good about myself, but I learned that this phobia— which is a real thing, it’s called Atychiphobia— would become an even greater struggle than keeping my GPA where I wanted it to be. Days leading up to a test, I would be ridden with anxiety. Every study session turned into a panic attack. Pop quizzes would become my demise, and so on and so forth. I’m sure everyone has gone through this once at some point in their life.

“This fear started to affect my health and made me miserable, and I didn’t want that to be how I lived my life. I was able to find coping mechanisms, and tell myself that it would all work out in the end. I’d reprogram myself to turn my anxiety into positive action and I’d remind myself that not getting the perfect score wasn’t going to kill me even if my brain was telling me it would. After three years, I still get nervous before a test, as everyone does, but I don’t let it dictate the outcome. If I had let it and accepted the fact that I would fail before I even tried, I would not be standing up here today. 

“Advisors would tell me, ‘You don’t learn anything from winning all of the time,’ and they were right. You learn from your failures, and there are hardships that you need to experience that come with it. If you win at everything, then you will never know what it’s like to lose and your successes will not have the same personal value as they would if you struggled to achieve them. Like the Japanese proverb says, ‘Fall down seven times, stand up eight.’ We are more than our setbacks or our successes. We are only defined by how we react to them.

“Failure needs to become not a fear, but a struggle; something we learn to overcome. It will always be there, hovering above us, but so is success. Both options are within our reach.

“We are successful today, Class of 2020. You have all worked extremely hard to get to where you are today, and it is expected that you continue to give your best effort in your future endeavors. We will face obstacles, and we may feel defeated, but remember, these are simply a setback to future successes. Move forward to find your accomplishment.

“Congratulations, 2020 graduates. You did it.”

The crowd cheered and the tightness disappeared from her chest. She never looked away from where Aziraphale and Crowley sat, even though she could see the tears in Aziraphale’s eyes from the podium and she fought the urge to let tears form in her own eyes. The Dean returned to the podium, shook Eve’s hand, and sent her back to her seat. 

She looked back at them and saw Aziraphale dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief. _Shit, don’t cry,_ she told herself over and over again. Emotions were on high already, but she couldn’t stand to watch others cry. 

“You didn’t _really_ bring that air horn, did you?” Aziraphale asked Crowley when it came time for the graduates to receive their diplomas. 

Crowley smirked, “No. Only because I knew Eve would kill me if I did.”

“And I would help her.”

“Maria Julia Thatcher... Richard Joseph Thayne... Nathaniel George Theilman... Annabelle Francine Theodore... Virginia Mary Thimmig... Jude Thomas Thistle...” the Dean went on naming the graduates as they came up onto the stage and received their diploma. Finally, Eve stepped up. “Evelyn Rose Thompson...”

Both watched Eve walk across the stage, take her diploma and shake some hands and move her graduation tassel to the other side. That was it; she was finally done. 

 

-

 

Everyone was thankful that it was such a beautiful summer day as the graduates and their families convened in the green space out front of the building. Eve ran over to Aziraphale and Crowley, careful not to trip in her heels, and threw her arms around the closest one, who happened to be Crowley, who wasn’t much of a hugger, to begin with. Crowley patted her on the back. “You’re going to crush my ribs”

“Sorry.” She stepped back grinning and wrapped her arms around Aziraphale. “You were crying...”

Aziraphale hugged her back. “You didn’t tell us you were speaking.”

“You didn’t even tell us your full name,” Crowley added. 

“I wanted it to be a surprise. My speech mostly. My name well, I completely forgot to tell you.”

“Why?” Aziraphale asked. “Evelyn Rose is a wonderful name.”

“Because I know now you’re going to call me Evelyn all the time, I just know it.”

“Well, _now_ we’re only going to do it because it’ll annoy you.” Crowley had a mischievous grin and Eve smacked him with her rolled-up diploma. “Wait, let’s see it then.”

“It’s not my real diploma. It’s just a rolled up piece of parchment with a purple and light blue ribbon. They send the real one in the mail. Oh, by the way,” she turned to Aziraphale, “my diploma will be arriving at the bookshop in a few weeks.”She shifted her weight back and forth, “Okay, I’ve got to get out of these heels soon.”

“You do look lovely, though, Eve. Blue suits you.” Aziraphale said. Eve had unzipped her graduation gown immediately after the ceremony; in it, she felt like she was a baked potato. She wore a light blue dress and nude heels that, while they gave her an extra three inches, were starting to kill her. It had been a rare day when she actually straightened her hair and put in her contacts and wore makeup. 

“Thanks!” She grinned and shoved her hands into the pockets of her dress. “It has pockets!”

“Brilliant. Hand me your phone?” Crowley held out his hand.

Eve raised a brow but gave him her phone anyway. “Why?”

Crowley swiped and turned on the camera. “Smile.”

“Crowley-“

“Evelyn, smile!” He demanded. She rolled her eyes and held up her fake diploma and smiled ear to ear. It was a genuine smile. It was the smile of someone who had just gotten a three-year weight lifted off of their shoulders. 

“I do hope I’m not interrupting,” a voice came from behind them. 

Eve spun around, “Dr. Corbyn!”

Dr. Corbyn grinned, “I wanted to catch you before you left.” She looked at Crowley and Aziraphale. “Hi, I’m Natalie Corbyn, I’m Eve’s advisor. You must be Eve’s parents.” She shook both of their hands while the two shared a quick glance with Eve. 

“Anthony,” Crowley said, thankful that his sunglasses hid his narrowed eyes. 

“Er, Azira.” Aziraphale panicked. He was blushing and flustered and to be completely honest, he had never quite worked out what the “A” in “A.Z. Fell” stood for. 

“Sorry, I just can’t get over how much Eve looks like the _perfect_ mix of you two.” She looked back to Eve. “So, Eve, I just got an email about an internship opportunity this morning and I wanted to offer it to you before I did anyone else. It’s a paid internship working on the Cologne Cathedral in Germany. It’s from September to the end of December and I think it would be a perfect project for you.”

Eve kept shooting nervous glances at Aziraphale and Crowley as if asking for some guidance. “I...”

“Eve, this is an amazing opportunity!” Aziraphale assured her. 

“Four months in Germany?”

“ _Evelyn_ ,” Crowley said sternly. “You’d be an idiot not to take it.” _Takes one to know one, Janthony._

“Okay. _Okay_ , yes, I’d love to do it.” 

“Perfect! I’ll email you the information. But for now, enjoy your day. You deserve it.” Dr. Corbyn pulled Eve into a hug. 

“Thank you, Dr. Corbyn, for everything.”

“Hopefully I’ll see you soon.” She waved goodbye to Aziraphale and Crowley, “It was a pleasure to meet you,” and walked away to join the rest of the academic staff. 

Eve wiped at her eyes, careful not to smudge her makeup. 

“Care for lunch?” Crowley asked. 

“A table for three miraculously just opened at The Ritz,” Aziraphale added. 

 

-

 

A glass of champagne will not get you drunk. Three glasses of really good champagne will get you singing “Angel Eyes” by ABBA in the back seat of a Bentley going seventy miles-per-hour in SoHo on the way to an antique bookshop. 

Eve was all giggles sprawled across the back seat. She had requested ABBA, but Crowley regretted to inform her that all he had was Queen and tapes that had turned to Queen after being in the car for two weeks. “Fear not,” she told them, “for I know it by heart!” Quite honestly, Crowley was more impressed than annoyed that she could remember the lyrics being drunk. 

Aziraphale helped her out of the car when they reached the bookshop and she took his arm. “Your eyes are _so_ pretty, Zira. We have the same eyes. And we have the same hair, Crowley!”

“Yes, Eve, we know,” Crowley opened the door for them. 

“I used to hate my hair,” Eve continued. “I thought about dying it, but then I met you and saw how pretty you are. Isn’t he pretty, Zira?”

Aziraphale giggled, “Yes, he’s beautiful.” He led Eve to Crowley’s sofa and she took off her cap and tossed it onto his desk. 

Crowley just shook his head and sat next to her. “You’d look off with any other hair color, anyway.”

“Oh, thank you.” She was starting to doze off. Aziraphale sat on the other side of Crowley, the three of them smushed onto the sofa together. Crowley took off his glasses and leaned into Aziraphale and Eve leaned into Crowley. “Thank you for today... For being there for me...” she yawned. “You’ve become like, my only family, you know?”

“We wouldn’t have missed it, Eve.” Crowley ran his hand through her hair. 

“I love you guys...” Crowley turned to look at Aziraphale, who had a soft expression like his heart had just melted. 

“We-“ Crowley turned back to Eve, but she was fast asleep, nuzzled against his chest. 

“Should we wake her?” Aziraphale asked. 

Crowley shook his head and whispered, “No, leave her be. She looks too peaceful.” He gently readjusted his position so that his arms were wrapped around her, with Aziraphale’s arm wrapped around him, and gently rubbed circles on Eve’s back. Crowley was not a touchy-feely person, but he supposed it was something worth getting used to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like it was best to close this part of the story here, seeing as Eve has finished her dissertation and finally graduated. The next part of the series we'll see where the next chapter of Aziraphale and Crowley's lives take them with Eve at their side.
> 
> Also, the speech is actually my own recycled High School Salutatorian speech! I don't own rights to pretty much anything else in this story, but I do own that speech, so I ask that you respect that. 
> 
> Thank you to those who have given Kudos, commented, etc. It really means a lot. :) <3

**Author's Note:**

> Be sure to continue the Ineffable Family story with "Home Is With You (Wherever That Is)"
> 
> In the meantime, come hang out with me on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/EmilieCrossan1) @EmilieCrossan1


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